the Rift


[JUDGED] Thrills and Spills | Dröm

Hector Posts: 262
Outcast atk: 7 | def: 9.5 | dam: 3.5
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 18.3hh :: 7 Years HP: 63 | Buff: ENDURE
Veci :: Plain Boggart :: Suffocate Dream
#1
No Time for Lies and Empty Fights


At dusk, and thick cloud cover has already cloaked Sky Island in shadow. Steady rain has been falling for an hour. The spar is set on the sand arena on the island.



Hector sailed on between each mighty thrust of his radiant wingspan and the dark, distorted outline of Sky Island grew ahead through the thick mist of white rain. His eyes were narrowed into a hard squint, harried by the icy, tumbling torrent, but they remained fixed diligently upon the looming target before them.

Veci rode along ingeniously, tucked into his bonded’s wet slipstream, invisible and unimpeded by any sort of weather. The Boggart was an enigma, a figment brought to life by a haunting whisper that no other could hear - it could just as easily have been the voice of the stallion’s conscience. He was an enigma, a restless ripple in the shadows that an untrained eye would never notice.

When at last they had cleared the cloud-bumpers skirting the very edge of the land and the spongy cushion of fresh grass and soaked soil collected beneath the strike of large, sound hooves, the tawny stallion steadied and slowed his pace. With fine streams drizzling from his rippling, sinewy body and water pooling in the large hoof-prints left in his wake, Hector sauntered down the lush slope towards the village where it lay nestled in the heart of the island’s valley.

Both stallion and Boggart longed for the thrill of battle.

It seemed that the rain did little to deter the hoards of horses from their business. Steaming bodies mulled here and there as the pair walked by, and Hector’s stoic tangerine gaze roamed between obscure faces for sign of any familiar among them. Towards the middle of the generously distanced tents, the large sand arena lay like a vast beach and looked to be almost as wet. He stepped upon it, saturated tail slithering like a snake between bony hocks, and sank promptly, fetlock-deep.

Voice murmured incoherently, amused, though he was undaunted by the challenge they faced.



Intro
Words: 309


@[Dröm], you can attack first if you like.

• Dragon's Throat Rank Experience: Fortify | Level 3
• Permission given for moderate power play, magical influence and damage at all times

Dröm Posts: 114
Hidden Account atk: 7 | def: 10.5 | dam: 3
Mare :: Equine :: 14.3hh :: 5 HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE
baylee
#2
Dröm

the Raconteur

Dröm had watched the hulking mass of tribrid move towards the battle area. Upon seeing him enter the ring, she briskly moved towards him. Her pace was quick as her supple form moved towards the sorrel stallion with fire printed upon his neck. From here, the short Arabian could see he was huge. He was easily the biggest horse she had ever laid her gaze on. As she grew near, she could make out two horns, both curved upwards. His wings were large, sorrel with flecks of orange that matched the color of fire. Despite his intimidating appearance, he was hot. Eventually, the lean Arabian deduced that it was the villain known as Birdsong that made her feel like this. Once she was in a close enough vicinity, she halted.

For a moment, she toyed with the idea of going home, but she figured it was pointless going home as a mare that gives up, thus she stayed. Politely, she smiled at him. She wasn't truly sure of how to go about beginning the spar. The fact that she had to look up to see his face was enough to make her hesitant. Finally, she spoke. "My name is Dröm." Her accent was unusually thicker today. In fact, this past week it had been thick. It was hard enough to understand her accent, but the rain made understanding her nearly impossible. "Who might you be?" She inquired softly, genuinely curious about this stallion. Attempting to focus, she moved away from small talk and tackled the main point of all of this. "Will you spar with me?" She said with some sort of desire behind her words. She desperately sought to fight. She wanted to prove herself to her herd, her friends, her family. She didn't want to be a dainty princess anymore.

"talk talk talk"
OOC:
Attack: #0 :: approaches hector, introduces herself, asks for spar
Notes: so excited! :D I didn't really know how to start this though :/ I figured hector would start it :33
Coding by Tamme
[Image: 53d6f2ea9010d]
pixel by baylee

Hector Posts: 262
Outcast atk: 7 | def: 9.5 | dam: 3.5
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 18.3hh :: 7 Years HP: 63 | Buff: ENDURE
Veci :: Plain Boggart :: Suffocate Dream
#3
No Time for Lies and Empty Fights


In no time at all, another had approached.

Hector’s long, swinging stride carried him towards the centre of the puddly arena and he did not immediately notice the tiny chestnut creature’s appearance behind him as he turned to search the perimeter for opportunity. The rain beat steadily all around, constantly, drowning out soft breath as it neared, and also the soft swish of neat hooves chopping through the slushy sand floor. When he did finally find her sleek, slight frame through the dense curtain and evening shadow, bright orange gaze narrowed critically, unsure as to why she was just there.

Veci stumbled feverishly towards her with reckless abandon, licking metaphorical lips with ravenous intent. He was desperate after so long spent behaving, to penetrate her unsuspecting mind and become the greatest of her fears – no matter how weak the attempt. But Hector intervened diligently...

No!

...And golden-red eyes flashed warningly as stained teeth snapped through the rain. The Boggart snarled sullenly in response, spilling instead into an indiscernible pool of wretchedness near the stranger’s petite hooves.

As Hector turned his attention then to the small mare waiting, his gaze softened remarkably, apologetically even. She smiled; a charming face even with the dull hue of night’s mask across it, and not for one second did she strike him as the bloodthirsty type. Weight shifted as he loomed above awkwardly with burnt-brown ears wavering still higher. Dröm introduced herself, though he strained forward to hear, to try to make sense of her exotic tongue. Horns dared ever closer atop a skull riddled with old blemishes and scarring - once a gruesome, bloody product of war, now sleek and he thought, beautiful.

It was hopeless, Hector had no idea what the fair horse wanted - that she had given her name, and nostrils purged a brisk, uncomfortable snort. You are in the way butterfly...

Veci sneered, thoroughly taken by her apparent ability to bother the generally composed Tribrid.

She seemed to the tawny giant, to be gazing up with unnerving desire and he thought he detected the same in her tone, the words which rolled from her lips as thick, foreign drawl. Then suddenly it occurred to him as he was turning vaguely the sounds she was making over and over and over in his mind, what perhaps she had asked of him.

"You want me ... to fight you?" he asked almost gravely, swallowing hard a surge of contemptuous laughter as it bubbled in his throat; torn between the hilarity of the situation, the utter ridiculousness of their pairing, and fear for the delicate looking woman’s life. There seemed to be an air of determination about her though that made his gut squirm - she certainly lacked the anxiousness that he had wholly expected to see overwhelm her.

Veci...

The Boggart lifted from his miserable wallowing, interested instantly.

Frighten her away...

It pained Hector to give such an instruction and his teeth clenched with remorse. Beside him she appeared as nothing larger than a child, wet, cold and perhaps lonely despite the undulating population around them. The Dragon-Warrior still wasn’t certain why she had picked him – his plan was to visit the island briefly and then return to the task given by the Wildfire. Arm wrestling pretty maidens in the mud was not high on his list of priorities, and with a guilty, cringing smile teasing his quivering lips, Hector waited.

Only a moment later, Veci had risen between them; vaporous form swelling gleefully as maliciousness choked out the strength of his bonded’s mind – even if Hector had thought twice about the decision, the ghost had blocked him, refusing to heed any further word. He sought to enter her through a breath - an innocent enough process it would seem, and realistically something her life depended upon. She was perhaps undeserving of such a cruel act, but the creature cared little for any other than the stallion who stood fidgeting reluctantly nearby. Like oxygen, he planned to sail down her trachea and spill forth into her lungs, filling them... But air he was not and surely the unsuspecting mare would realise the shortness of her breath, the suffocation, even before he had burst back up through her windpipe into the rain, dragging with him any air that remained.

It was a warning, though one Hector regretted immensely. With a heavy heart, he wished that she would notice quickly her error and run...



Words: 742
Attack: 1/3
Defence: 0/1

Note: Veci used Suffocate | can draw the air out of another's lungs, making them feel like they cannot breathe

<3


Dröm Posts: 114
Hidden Account atk: 7 | def: 10.5 | dam: 3
Mare :: Equine :: 14.3hh :: 5 HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE
baylee
#4
Dröm

the Raconteur

At first, he doesn't understand the words that are ushered from her velvet lips, but he comprehends them soon enough. The moment she thinks he is going to attack, he doesn't. Why doesn't he attack? She toys with the idea that he is afraid to attack such a cute little mare, but no. You want me to fight you? he asks, as if denying she is any sort of opponent for him. True, she was small with only a thin coat of muscle, but she was smart and cunning. "You don't want to teach me?" She questioned innocently enough, yet if he looked close enough he would find a spark of courage. She was not going to back down from this fight. Sure, she might lose, but it didn't sway her. The Storyteller would normally stand up to a horse like this, but the mood changed.

The mood changed from a regular spar setting to something... darker. It felt as if she had inhaled poisonous air. It was as if his hands were on her neck as they closed in a vise like grip. But this stallion had no hands, and he was not touching me. A tear formed in caramel eyes as she felt true terror. Her nostrils flared as she desperately sought to suck as much air into her lungs as possible. Eventually, there was no more air. Dröm gasped and gasped and gasped but it didn't help. The feeling eventually left, and she could breath, and breath she did. With each inhale and exhale, she grew angrier and angrier.

Her muscles contracted underneath her supple build as she prepared herself. Golden ears flatten against blonde locks as her eyes flash with anger. "I didn't ask to be assaulted with magic, or whatever that was. Fight me with your body." It was a demand, nothing less. Her tone was harsh, and it was clear this is what she wanted to do. She didn't want to have to deal with his magic, she wanted their bodies to collide and hooves to fly. Was it such a hard thing to do?

With that being said, she lunged forwards. Her jaw is wide, ivories exposed. She has thrown all her weight (which must not amount to much compared to the tribrid) forwards. Her eyes are glued on the sensitive spot where neck connects to shoulder. Her aim is to attack on his right side and drive her teeth into his first marked shoulder point. She bores forward, hoping to make the stallion unbalanced. Quickly, she clamps down, hoping to grab his hide. She moves away from him galloping quite quickly, her jaw still clamped down hard. She hadn't ever tasted blood, would today be the first day?

She feels her hooves sink into the moist sand with each stride. The extra effort tiring her rather quickly, so she halts. Spinning around, she faces where she assumes the stallion is. She finds herself 15ft give it take, away from where the fight had started and where she stood moments earlier. The rain has made her blonde locks of hair extremely curly. The look is attractive on her, but this is no setting to embrace one's beauty. This was a war zone. In war, there was victory (life) and defeat (death). Which side would the Orange stallion choose, and which side would the small mare choose? Two cant win, for if two win, they have both lost.

When she was a young princess, she never had to fight nor work. When she had arrived at Helovia, she began working. She amassed the position of Storyteller, gaining the ability to craft in the process. Recently, she's learnt to heal. Now, she trains like a warrior. It's been pleasant for the mare and she's found that she rather enjoys working, for the results of hard earned work are much sweeter than what has been given without work. This was an important lesson, and she'd learnt it well. She'd always wondered if others had taken this lesson to heart like she had, or if they expected instant results. She had not met one that had been handed anything here, so she assumed everyone was a hard worker. Sweet Dröm, too sweet to accuse of foul play, though I was sure there was.

"talk talk talk"
OOC: wordcount: 730
Attack: #1/3 :: lunges at him, trying to bite him. Throws her weight into him to make him unbalanced then moves away. Halts and turns to face him.
Notes: I assumed they were face-to-face? That is what I had intended in my intro post. :3
Coding by Tamme
[Image: 53d6f2ea9010d]
pixel by baylee

Hector Posts: 262
Outcast atk: 7 | def: 9.5 | dam: 3.5
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 18.3hh :: 7 Years HP: 63 | Buff: ENDURE
Veci :: Plain Boggart :: Suffocate Dream
#5
No Time for Lies and Empty Fights


Hector gave the petite Arab (dished profile, dark doe eyes; she could only be) points for her stubborn display of dauntlessness, audacity - or perhaps he was just glorifying stupidity. It seemed she was not deterred by the Boggart’s sadistic attack at all.

In fact, as she stood gasping and gulping, starved of oxygen, the watching stallion noticed a very visible shift in her demeanour. It was not fear that pinched her pretty, feminine features. Through the rain and dusk’s shadow, he saw flesh clench beneath her bronze, water-logged coat, and rising anger flatten narrow ears back along the flaxen hair limp across upon her poll - this language was unmistakable and Hector swayed reluctantly across flexing knees.

Why... he groaned, very nearly rolling his eyes; though only Veci who was by then circling both hoofed beasts, was capable of accessing that aspect the stallion’s blooming frustration.

Again her clumsy voice stumbled through the murk - but it was louder this time, sharper, and the riled message upon it was clear. Her roused temper seemed to come at him like a tumbling wall, brick, or something equally as stunning. It startled the giant enough to cause his forequarters to jerk back abruptly. His weight spilt heavily across balanced, tightened hocks, tail beneath flinching wildly, flinging sand and water as it lashed like a stricken snake. Likewise, as her frame lunged unexpectedly forward, his crest swerved left defensively leaving ribbons of water streaming out in wake of his flailing copper mane.

She was like mighty-mouse, and he the elephant, taken aback entirely.

The glint of marbled white, of the mare’s bared blunt teeth, caught his right eye as his skull swung clear of her rapid approach. Thin golden lashes all matted with water, fluttered tentatively for a moment and then burst open around flashing eyes. Burning pain erupted from the bony prominence which marked the ‘point’ of his (tattooed) right shoulder. The ache branched as she pulled viciously at his tight wet pelt before receding again quickly, when her grip slipped away. His shoulder was left stinging, bleeding, and prickling wildly as a result of both bruised and exposed nerve-endings. So too did his poise waver, slightly. The copper Tribrid felt the impact of her meagre assault shudder through his sternum, but coiled thigh muscles held him well through it.

The stallion snorted tersely a cloud of spiralling steam. He was both impressed and incensed by the small Equine’s pluck; an ant standing ground! Veci did naught to ease his bonded’s growing mortification either, rolling about the arena like pointless fog, cackling with delight.

Orange-flecked wings unfurled promptly as his body lurched forward through residual pain, and he drove them down heavily to improve his momentum in the boggy sand as he went after her fleeing pale rump. Hector endeavoured to close the opening distance between them and took smug pleasure in charging right through his stagnant companion.

She was nimble though, lightweight, and it seemed too quick upon her spindly legs for her own good. The mare paused and swivelled to face him with speed that the hulking warrior could never hope to match. Again the soft hue of her form lingered before him; though horribly close this time, wrapped tight in evening’s blanket, rain streaming from her tapering, tiny jaw.

"Oh, forgive me..." he choked anxiously, bothered, and plagued by testosterone - yet not for one second intending to do her true harm.

Hindquarters sank heavily and the hard, round hooves beneath drove down deeply under his braced mass - as though quicksand were their perch. The stallion’s well padded breast lifted in unison with his knees and he leaned left from the shoulder, as hard as he dared (given the nature of their environment, the quagmire below). Hector’s right wing, the flared, water-wielding appendage that should had been nearest to her, lifted high into the air; perpendicular, to aid the motion of his movement. The other reached far out to the left to try to better balance the awkward, half-rearing, twisting manoeuvre; to avoid a full collision yes, but also in hope that he would not fall on his face in the process.

If a crash turned out to be inescapable after all, Hector hoped to graze by her right shoulder, her wingless side, and perhaps only throw her off centre.

To the ground...

At least.



Words: 728
Attack: 2/3
Defence: 0/1


@[Dröm]

Dröm Posts: 114
Hidden Account atk: 7 | def: 10.5 | dam: 3
Mare :: Equine :: 14.3hh :: 5 HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE
baylee
#6
Dröm

the Raconteur

The clouds are churlish and kraken-cruel. They cough out great gouts of water and thunking balloons of sopping moisture. The spring sky should be fragile, blue, with clouds that are angel-white. Yet, today the sky was dark and vengeful. Steaming shrouds of pall coil and writhe in the sky, blocking out the divine light of the sun. The wind whips up into frenzy, screeching in her ears. To her, the rain is the nectar of the gods, her god specifically (the Earth God, that is), and the serum of the sky. She is no ancient mariner, yet she understands the importance of nature’s bounty. The spring rains are here, but the Storyteller fails to see how these Birdsong rains are as sinless and glistening as an angel’s tears, like they were at her old home. Though this seemed to be one bad storm, she wondered how the tears of the sky were gentler in her home, a place of mass destruction and murder. The cold air stings her fragile eyes, but she dares not take them off of her russet opponent. She lets her tongue hang out of velvet lips for a moment, hoping the rain will wash the metallic tasting crimson liquid out of her mouth. This taste, she hated it, but would ignore her own displeasure, so that she may focus on the spar, as that was the most important currently happening event right now.

His gargantuan frame is frightful, but she doesn't flinch when he slides to a halt, seemingly inches away from her. In fact, she's always enjoyed closeness, be it in a spar or in slumber, and she certainly doesn't mind when the one that is near her is an attractive (and that's putting it gently) male. Mhm- attractive. She's acepted the fact that he is attractive, but she makes no move to act on this feeling, especially not now. Caramel gaze fixes itself on his large hooves, analyzing and watching his footwork. Could she determine what attack he would plan by watching his huge hooves? Her eyes return to his after having no idea what he was going to do, passing a bloodied shoulder on the way up. Usually calm eyes gleam with the pride of a solid attack, though her maw is not curved in a smile. Nay, it is set in a line. The only view into her mind, her thoughts, her emotions were her eyes. Would the copper man spare a glimpse into ebony pupils that danced with emotion so clear, it was maddening?

There was no time to stand and view the world in philosophical manner like she might on a regular day. The titan spoke, his voice echoing in the mare's mind. "No need to apologize, stranger," She doesn't know his name, thus she refers to him as stranger. "I was the one asking for a spar." She said kindly, her voice returning to it's natural sound. However, she speaks louder know, hoping her dulcet chords will finally be heard easily. She debates whether she should say one last thing, but the tawny stud decides for her. The answer? No more talkin. He halfway lifts himself, and she assumes he is turning around, planning to buck out at her. However, this was not his plan at all. It was sheer luck the mare evaded his attack by moving backwards about five or so steps. She'd only moved back to evade getting kicked by muscular hind legs, though backing up also saved her from being whacked by huge wings. There was nothing but a few extra drops of water that were flung at her by a fire-flecked wing that had been soaked thoroughly. His longer feathers at the tips of his wings grew rather close to her whiskered snout. In a flash of movement, she stretches her muzzle forward, jaw widening as she tries to bite any part of his wing that passes she can. She bores forwards, hoping to ram her supple frame into any part of him. Her lids flutter shut, bracing for impact that she hopes will come. Was it a bad idea to close her eyes? Probably. Does she care? Probably not. It's the way she fights, and the world will just have to deal with it.

"talk talk talk"
OOC: wordcount: 710
Attack: #2/3 :: backs up, evading his attack. tries to bite&ram herself into him or the wing he tried to hit her with, shutting her eyes in the process.
Notes: <3
Coding by Tamme
[Image: 53d6f2ea9010d]
pixel by baylee

Hector Posts: 262
Outcast atk: 7 | def: 9.5 | dam: 3.5
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 18.3hh :: 7 Years HP: 63 | Buff: ENDURE
Veci :: Plain Boggart :: Suffocate Dream
#7
No Time for Lies and Empty Fights


Of course Hector missed her!

He was an accomplished soldier, far more capable of moving with precision than perhaps he gave himself credit for. If ploughing her slight silhouette into the sand had been his preference, then that was what would have occurred... naturally. As it were, she stepped back sensibly amid a war of more words - at least they were comprehensible this time. Her shuffle worked in perfect synchronization with his aim to avoid.

A spar? she had mentioned, and it caught him off guard.

The whole turn of events made a little more sense then, though her revelation did little to quell his discomfort. No matter her bravery, or the complete disregard for her life, Hector was unused to facing opponents not any more substantial than a leaf. Shouldn’t she be tending a crèche? he mused with broadening bewilderment. Veci grinned fiercely – silver-light slicing through the shade of his bonded’s thoughts. A smirk teased too, the corners of the giant’s dripping lips, but he withheld his reservations from the mare, that spark of amusement, and wore instead a ridged mask of indifference across his face for all to see. No warrior ever strode into battle wearing their heart upon their sleeve.

Hector’s massive body was still turning all the while...

As he teetered left through awakening wind, his balance skewed beyond control and copper form began to topple. The churned up sand gave way easily beneath his staggering stride, and the gale seemed to yowl with delight as it pummelled against fanned feathers – a conspiracy?

Don’t be ridiculous...

She was devious though, a goblin disguised wickedly in cute ringlets of gold and radiant crocodile smiles. Again her teeth danced forward to find him, to clamp down on the first couple of feathers as they breezed by her face. She seemed to him, to collect them with pin-point accuracy (perhaps the wing was not strained nearly as high as he had anticipated) and a soft bleat slipped into the lashing rain as they were plucked promptly from place.

The chestnut girl was not finished, and through the slough she lunged again.

By then Hector had curled his body into a clumsy half-circle away from her, and he was sinking rapidly as his knees began to buckle. He felt like time was suspended around him, paused to make a full mockery of his blundering, most well-meaning efforts. The arena threatened to swallow him literally, with all of the consistency of a downy feather bed, and he wondered for the briefest of moments if actually he were dipping into the jaws of an icy ocean. In vain effort to right his posture, bending spine stiffened; but alas that only worked to drive him down in a forward sprawling motion instead. Wet, sandy sludge stuck like glue to his neck as it snaked back up into the gloomy air, and heavy tangerine tendrils licked furiously as he writhed.

The marauding minx came upon him quickly with eyes sealed tight. She was wasting not even a second it seemed, and she rammed her strength into his wavering, mid-air right thigh. It suffered the full brunt of her charge unfortunately, and an immediate burst of pain as the muscle and hip below, shuddered violently beneath sodden skin... Perhaps the greatest consequence of all was that it forced Hector down altogether in the very opposite direction to which his horribly drawn-out fall (fail) had begun – all completely irrespective of his stubborn floundering too.

Angrily he roared, and Veci twisted fervently along the length of the stallion’s rising whip-tail. As it coiled as far as the vertebrae would allow, he flicked it back sharply through the rain intending to snap the silken hair at its end by her apparently blind, unsuspecting face. As he did so, Hector thrust his flailing hind legs towards her with great hooves striking gracelessly for any bone that gambled too near – she was small, thus presumably should need to venture precariously close in order to cause contact.



Words: 667
Attack: 3/3
Defence: 0/1

Note: Drom is welcome to keep Hector’s wing feathers, though I imagine they would be almost to her shoulder in height xD Almost like swords.


@[Dröm]

Dröm Posts: 114
Hidden Account atk: 7 | def: 10.5 | dam: 3
Mare :: Equine :: 14.3hh :: 5 HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE
baylee
#8
Dröm

the Raconteur

As the spar dragged on, she wondered where the slanted rays of the aurelian sun were. There was an eerie fog that surrounded the combatants, though neither had orally questioned the reasoning behind it. It was almost ironic that the one meant to be wise, was not aware of the foggy companion they had bounded through with wide eyes and flared nostrils. The blonde babe still hadn't figured out that the one who had suffocated her was, in fact, a menace of a boggart. Would she ever learn of the specter-like shadow that had bonded to her... opponent? Yes, opponent. That is what he is, despite how much she'd like for them to be friends. They were simply enemies for now, their paths collided with blood and pain, not promises of nights under the star-kissed sky, sharing secrets with one another.

The flighty arabian's attack landed solidly. Her teeth clamped down solidly on long primaries. She hadn't necessarily yank at them, pulling them out. In fact, she could easily blame the winged unicorn for his own loss of feathers. His momentum hadn't stopped after she caught his feathers in a toothy grip, thus he yanked them out will she held on. Despite that being enough pain to cause a reaction in the beast, she was not done. She moved forwards, forcing herself towards his already unsteady form. She felt his massive body against hers, but once initial connection was made, she didn't continue charge, instead she halted. Before caramel eyes fluttered open once more, she felt something whip her cheek. It sting more than the rain on her eyes, more than the wind against an open wound. Finally, orbs flitted open, surprised to find that his tail had smacked her. His ass was facing her, and for the first time ever, she saw a partially-leonine tail. She'd seen some that had tails tasseled by a few hairs, but this... this was different. His plume was thck, volumous, and orange. Her pinned ears rose forward as she gazed upon his partially naked tail. It seemed confused to her. Was it a wispy unicorn tail, or a thicker regular tail? The odd mixture caused her cranium to cock sideways as she examined the thing.

But alas, her curiosity was not meant to be for she saw two, large, not-so-cloven, hooves begin flying towards her. Eyes widen, revealing white sclera, out of shock. As a natural reflex, she angles her body to the right. Her lean muscles ripple under golden hide as she lifts herself slightly off of the ground, raising her head out of the way of danger. She keeps her knees locked and straight, not wanted to lift them and risk him kicking either of her legs (which could cause broken bones and bruised bones and a whole lot of other painful injuries). She's made it so the only region available to take damage is her left breast or left shoulder-- and boy, does she take damage!

Both of his hooves plant themselves on her body. One of his hooves lands mid-breast, stinging as it does so. She already feels her chest throbbing and aching, knowing for a fact there will be a horseshoe shaped bruise to mend. The pain is merciless as she feels his other hind hoof tear across her shoulder point and part of her shoulder, ripping skin and fur off as it does so. This hit had landed more of a sensitive area, were skin is thinner and there is no fat to protect bone and nerves, which seemed to make it hurt a million, billion, trillion, times worse. With a stinging cheek, a throbbing chest, and a bleeding shoulder, she waits for his hooves to retrieve before she lands once more on the sand. One last attack, out with a bang.

Her ears flatten once again and her eyes revert back to their neutral facade. Already feeling wizened by this experience, she felt she knew enough to at least give him one attack that wouldn't involve a flash of teeth. When she assumes his hind legs are back on the ground, she lifts her chest once again, but this times her knees are bent, held close to a narrow, throbbing, chest. With the last bits of energy slowly depleting, she decides that this will be her last maneuver, and she will muster up her trace amounts of energy to accomplish it.

Wildly, and erratically, her legs flail around with no specific aim. She tries to hit his croup, or maybe his oddly naked tail dock. On the way back to the ground, she continues paddling at the air, hooves flying in a frenzy, trying to get a last kick in. Finally, she is back on the ground. Fatigued, she hopes this is over.

"talk talk talk"
OOC: wordcount: 797
Attack: #3/3 :: is whipped and kicked in chest/shoulder, once she believes him to be on the ground she rears, flailing around to kick him.
Notes: Quite possibly one of the fastest spars ever XD Had a blast <3 and i'll definitely keep a feather c':
Coding by Tamme
[Image: 53d6f2ea9010d]
pixel by baylee

Official Posts: 847
Administrator
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
Official
#9
As a note, due to Drom starting this battle within one week of a prior battle, she will be facing a 5-8HP deduction when judging is done.

Hector Posts: 262
Outcast atk: 7 | def: 9.5 | dam: 3.5
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 18.3hh :: 7 Years HP: 63 | Buff: ENDURE
Veci :: Plain Boggart :: Suffocate Dream
#10
No Time for Lies and Empty Fights



100%

Veci, can you stop it, you aren’t letting me focus!

The Boggart was so highly entertained by his lumbering, bumbling companion that he began to choke on his own laughter, silent, sinister, and his spectre form began to ripple visibly beyond control as he rolled off gasping towards the sideline. Neither could really believe the delicately fashioned mare’s luck – because surely something so unassuming had not the capacity to out-skill a hardened Dragon Warrior... right?

The evidence was as clear as day though, and the disgruntled stallion grunted plumes of misty annoyance into the cold damp atmosphere above.

His shoulder was stinging awfully as the torrents of water kept clean the bite would upon it; the blood could not clot, it was constantly washed away. The injury was spared impact upon the arena’s floor however and for that he was thankful (small mercies, of course). It bothered him more that the joints beneath were growing stiff. Similarly the thigh just struck, the sinew meshed across it revolted angrily as his body rolled down to the left and into the cradle of sand. Hurriedly he had tucked the same wing to his flank, eager to avoid crushing the delicate bones within.

As Hector rolled into his kicking, undulating attack, horned skull was thrust away to improve strength from each rolling shoulder down. Jaw clenched tightly as the right groaned painfully in protest, but the jolt as his hooves smacked her, and the loud thwack on wet skin was quite inspiring. The shock of success, compelled him on. The copper-coated Tribrid could not see which part of her he had struck, but he cared little and wasted no extra time mulling it over on the ground.

Ha! he thought sourly, vibrantly, and passed a smug glance by the watching Boggart.

There seemed to be a moment of nothing - no pain, nor the sound of tendrils hissing through the rain. It was a chance to recover his stance and one he seized with a vigorous heave-ho!

Up, the stallion lifted with wings fanning wide to each side. Weight crouched low across coiled haunches and her pivoted (very loosely) in effort to find the front of the mare looming behind the dense shade of impending night. She was harder to see, whether because her dulled, wet coat better blended into the area around them, or because his eyes were glazed and red-raw. When he spotted a soft outline moving ahead, it was too late; the sprite was upon him again and Veci made no secret of his enjoyment, shrieking shamelessly though his bonded’s mind - the Mother of Companions will have your balls!

"VECI!" Hector bellowed furiously, needing not the contribution of the ghost to feel any more pitiful.

Erratic, mid-air galloping closed in quickly, but the stallion was passed caring. She was rearing perhaps, or levitating... Either way her narrow toes came like a cloud of locusts across a savannah and they ate everything in their sight. Neck writhed around through the rain as she grazed his swinging face – nose and cheek, and then batted about his throat whenever it became available. "For goodness sake stop already..." he moaned resignedly, with eyes flashing open between strikes. But the chestnut was falling again it seemed, and the hail of hooves, the barrage ended.

Chips and divots removed across his face stung terribly, but they were not lethal and the adrenaline coursing though his veins numbed them a little. Undoubtedly the morning to come would present the spar’s spoils in all of its glory – bruises, strains... indignity. He would be sure to have it all.



Words: 628
Attack: 3/3
Defence: 1/1

Note: I would love to continue a thread with her, and then maybe head off the Hidden Falls after...


Official Posts: 847
Administrator
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
Official
#11
By my verdict: HECTOR is the winner!

HECTOR
Realism [-1]
You began really well and I thoroughly enjoyed your first attack post - him relying on his companion to try and scare her off was great! After that however your attacks became a bit hard to decipher in the following 2 posts. I also needed to see a lot more injury description and its lasting effects. You would state how you took your opponent’s attacks and that it hurt, but either not enough damage was taken, or the injury never really occured. For instance your shoulder bite in your second post, which was well described, was not enough damage considering she rolled a 6 (and you did not receive damage in any other way), not to mention it never hindered his movements the rest of the fight. Then in your third post you take your opponent’s feather pulling and ramming attack, but what actual injuries and damage does he take from that? Same thing in your closing defense, you take her hits, but do not assess the actual injury or damage. Additionally his attack at kicking her while on the ground didn't seem realistic.

I would have loved to see a lot more breed differences mentioned given the huge differences in height, and the fact Hector has higher strength, agility, and speed (at one point Hector was surprised at her speed and commented he could never be that fast…). Additionally while you mentioned the weather sometimes, you never really used it, good or bad. The exception to this was your third post you did talk about the sand tripping you up and helping lead to your fall, which I loved because that’s exactly what would have happened.


Emotion [+2]
I really loved the relationship between Hector and his companion and his initial reactions to having to fight Drom, combined with her continual high damage rolls which kept making him look like a fool, bahaha.


Prose [+3.5]
You have got great flow and just in general beautiful writing.


Readability [0]
Your first post was flawless, but your second and third posts were extremely confusing to me when it came to his attacks. In the last paragraph of post two you say his right wing is nearest to her, but he’s on her right side? I’m also not sure if he was potentially colliding with her because he was chasing her and she stopped, or because he was going to ram her, but didn’t want to hurt her that bad. Same thing with your third post, it took me a few reads to understand he was indeed falling, although I’m still not entirely sure in relation to her, and then I was very confused about his hind feet kicking her when he never said he stood up. Only by reading your fourth post did I realize he was on his back kicking her from the ground, however I needed that information in that third post.

Beautiful writing, just make what needs to be clear easy to read for your opponent and judges.

Post 2:
“...the flaxen hair limp across upon her poll …” (across or upon, not both).


Finally tally: 40.5+(4.5*2)= 49.5 HP

*******************************************

DROM
Realism [0]
I think you are just on the cusp of great realism, the biggest struggle I had was that you didn’t describe things enough to convince me that they could be realistic. I don’t want to be told Drom runs away after she attacks, that’s far too vague, I want to be lead through each excruciating detail of why she chooses to run off, which direction she goes, how she’s able to given that attacking someone means your near them (agility, size etc. all can affect this). The details were lost in so many things, so if you walk away from anything with this fight, please take the time to describe more.

That includes utilizing settings and breed more, for good or bad. Drom and Hector had a huge size difference and Hector had higher stats than her in everything except Endurance - use it! She wants to kick his croup, but guess what she’s short he’s tall, so instead maybe she hits more around his hock. She meant to evade faster, but oh shoot the sand slowed her down more than expected and that’s why he was able to land that hit on her. You mention rain and wind and sand, but you never use it.

And finally, please also describe your injuries and use them too. You are suffocated in your first post, there should be painful, lasting effects from that. She’s mad, great, but maybe she can’t run his ass down as easily as she wants because she’s still winded and her vision is a bit foggy. because with what you wrote, just feeling your breath choked out and then it’s all gon and you’re hunky dory again, you didn’t take enough damage given that he rolled 4. Same thing in your third post - you just got a 6 damage rolled and took it all to the chest and shoulder, yet directly afterwards you have the health to rear up and kick him multiple times with the very legs that were just supposed to have been obliterated??? That was not nearly enough damage then if it didn’t debilitate you and only scored some missing hair and a bruise. If you need help understanding damage from the dice, please as an admin and they can guide you to what is appropriate for what number values.


Emotion [+1]
I really felt that Drom had the potential to be a great source of emotion, and I especially loved how she got angry and stood up for herself in post one, but I often felt I was being told what Drom was feeling, rather than show. I want to feel what she feels with her.


Prose [+1]
Your writing is easy to understand, but there are a lot of choppy transitions and chunks of paragraph that don’t seem to relate to what else is in the post.


Readability [0]
Your posts were easy to read and you were good at describing where you were in relation to your opponent, but you had a lot of grammar issues which were very distraction. They included: typos, run on sentences, tense changes, and narrative changes (third vs. first person). Watch your wording and review your posts before posting them!

Post 1:
“The Storyteller would normally stand up to a horse like this, but the mood changed. “ (would not?).
“It was as if his hands were on her neck as they closed in a vise like grip. But this stallion had no hands, and he was not touching me.” (third to first person change).
“...feeling eventually left, and she could breath, and breath she did” (breathe).
“Golden ears flatten against blonde locks as her eyes flash with anger.” (flashed, to stick with tense).
“With that being said, she lunged forwards. Her jaw is wide, ivories exposed. She has thrown all her weight (which must not amount to much compared to the tribrid) forwards.” (tense changes, and in many other sentences.).
“She finds herself 15ft give it take, away…” (or).
“Which side would the Orange stallion choose…” (lower case o).

Post 2:
“This taste, she hated it, but would ignore her own displeasure, so that she may focus on the spar, as that was the most important currently happening event right now.” (run on).
“...she speaks louder know…” (now).

Post 3:
“...she didn't continue charge….” (the charge or charging).


Finally tally: 29+(2*2)= 33 HP


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